Cold War: SaiyaGene-13
by Crazyeight
Summary: In the years between the Cell Saga and the resurrection of Majin Buu, a war for the throne of a star-spanning empire was being waged. Only the strongest will claim Cold's empire in the end, and the weak shall be buried.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z.

Dozens of spheres rocketed through the depths of space, trailing a blaze of white light behind them. Within, lights turned on, awakening their passengers and alerting them that they were nearing their destination; a marble-blue planet with a great swath of ice covering its northern hemisphere.

The pods plummeted through the world's atmosphere, losing no speed. Instead, it was quite the opposite. They accelerated, smashing into the planet's crust with ferocious force, kicking up an explosion of dust and debris with their impacts.

From his place atop his royal palace, Kuriza watched three drop down into the city below. He narrowed his eyes, the device attached to the bulbous ear on the side of his head beeping as it detected ki readings emanating from them and displaying them on its screen, sitting over his left eye.

_10,000… 5000… 8000… Small powers. Are they trying to insult me?_

Tapping a three-toed foot on the palace, he rose into the air. His tail lashed but once before he vanished from view, the world dissolving into a blur of colors before returning to normal. A squid-faced creature decked out in RIT battle-armor—long, golden shoulder guards with a white torso covering—was already emerging from its pod. Kuriza raised a finger and took aim as energy built up at the tip.

Squid-face died with a hole in his head, oozing blue blood.

"Didn't even know what hit him," Kuriza smirked before a beep from his scouter warned him of an attack. He turned casually, not in the least bit concerned despite the fact that one of the two remaining powers—the one registering 10,000 Units—had just doubled in strength. He had no reason to worry.

_I am my father's son,_ he thought idly as a shadow fell over him. Looking up, he saw a towering red dragon dressed in the same battle armor as Squid-face charging toward him, scales shining in the light of the sun. Kuriza merely repeated the same action as before, and within short order the dragon fell, gasping and choking on blood. Behind him was another Squid-face, frozen in fear at the speed of which Kuriza had dealt with his comrades. His expression cold, Kuriza took aim once more.

"There were three things my father refused to tolerate when he was alive," he told the second Squid-face. "Cowardice, bad haircuts, and military insurrection." His dark-brown eyes narrowed. "You don't even have hair."

A flash of light and a scream later, and Kuriza was alone once more. Lowering his arm, he gave the corpse a disgusted look.

"The least you could have done was _try_ to entertain me…"

He dealt with the remaining invaders the same way, one by one. None had a chance.

_Fools, _he thought upon returning to his palace._ My power level is in the millions. None of them come even close to approaching a tenth of what I am. In this war, few can match me._

He wanted to feel good about that; to be confident in his strength. Deep down however, he knew better. Looking up toward the blue sky, shrouding the deep blackness of space, he ground his teeth together, knowing what was coming. This was only the first, a warning of what was to come. The one who sent this attack _wanted_ him to know.

He felt the scar that ran down the side of his face twinge in pain. His opponent believed in playing games such as this.

_He's coming…_

**###**

**Cold War: SaiyaGene-13**

A Dragon Ball Z story by Crazyeight

Chapter: 1

**###**

The orb-shaped robot hovered up to Sprou and tapped him lightly on the head. The black-haired youth, human-like in appearance, grunted and turned over in his bunk, burying himself deeper in his blanket, emblazoned with the symbol of a blue spike on a field of star-filled space. The orb-bots electronic eyes changed from green to red as if in annoyance, but before it could do anything else, a tall shadow approached from the side.

"Not responding is he?" asked the figure in a feminine voice in amusement. "You must be newly assigned. Here. Let me show you how it's…_done!"_

On the last word, the figure's hand whipped out and dove under the blanket. Sprou's eyes flew open as every part of his body seized up.

"Got your tail…" teased the figure. Sprou's eyes widened in horror in recognition. He had only a second to digest this before he was abruptly ripped out of his bed and thrown against his locker with ferocious—though gentle for her—force. He slammed into the locker brutally and fell to the floor with a cry of pain. One that was quickly silenced as soon as his assailant's foot struck the floor mere inches away from his face. Mustering his courage, he followed the foot up to its leg and finally found its owner. A tall woman with striking features, black hair tied back into a ponytail and dark eyes, and a small but noticeable X-shaped scar running along her cheek. She wore an RIT battle vest with a white torso. A number barely hidden by her shoulder guard, thirteen, marked her arm, twin to the one he had as well.

"Sqash…" he groaned with despair. Smirking, she folded her arms beneath her breasts.

"In the flesh," she said, whipping a brown-furred tail around her waist. "Are you going to sleep all day Sprou? You know you have training today. Do I have to drag you to the training room again?"

"No!" His own said appendage reacted at the memory from the last time that happened and quickly belted itself around his waist. He scrambled to his feet to discourage the notion. "I'm up, I'm up. I'm…" He glanced down at himself and flushed deeply. "…not presentable."

"Dress quickly then," Sqash ordered, still amused.

**###**

Fortunately for Sprou he didn't need to be dragged.

_"Your opponent will be a single Saibaman,"_ spoke the hover-orb as it followed him and Sqash through the corridor.

"Great," Sprou muttered, fingering the hem of his battle-armor—a more basic design than Sqash's, lacking her shoulder guards. "This is going to be fun."

"It should be," Sqash said. Reaching up to the scouter attached to her head, she pressed a button. "Your power level can finally match just one of them. You should be able to have an even fight. Maybe this time you won't be half dead and I won't need to intervene to keep it from killing you."

"I'm still not looking forward to it."

Sqash snorted derisively. "You have no spirit. It's no wonder you're so weak. You'll never be able to serve our great lord and creator if you cannot be strong. If you're not careful, you'll end up just like the elevens."

Sprou wanted to shudder at the reminder but managed to repress it. On this ship…in this universe, only the strong survived. The elevens—their predecessors—failed to be strong, so they were cast aside.

He didn't want to be like them.

They came to a halt in front of the main entrance to the training room and Sqash stepped to the side. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, the doors opening with a sigh, and closing behind him.

"Do you think he'll die this time?" asked a man approaching. "Or will you bail him out again?"

Sqash scowled at him before looking back at the door. His hair was large and mane-like, much like his beard. Like Sqash, he wore battle-armor with shoulder guards, though with a black torso instead of white.

Like Sqash, he bore a brown-furred tail and his arm was marked with the number thirteen.

"If he dies here, Pota, then that'll be the end for him. Our lord and creator won't allow him to live if he cannot conquer the Saibaman this time. He will be cast aside like all the rest."

Pota chortled. "I'm going to love watching this."

Closing her eyes, Sqash gave a light laugh. "Me too."

**###**

Sprou's heartbeat was already erratic when he stopped in the center of the room. He was filled with dread, but also hope.

_I'm strong enough,_ he told himself. _Sqash said so when she scanned me. All I have to do is defeat it, and life goes on._

He raised his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he scanned the room. It was dome-shaped, with two doors standing opposite to each other. The one in front of him would be where the Saibaman would come from. He took a shaky breath. In spite of Sqash's scan, he couldn't help but be filled with dread all the same. To date he had yet to defeat a Saibaman in combat. Always…_always_ they would beat him down and Sqash would jump in to save him from getting killed. Saibamen were notoriously savage by nature and did not hesitate to do their utmost to destroy their opponent. Even in training, for only the strongest survived.

By rights, he should have been dead and cast aside a long time ago.

The door before him slid open with a whisper and from it emerged the dreaded Saibaman. Its cruel eyes took only a second to look the room over before focusing on him, grinning maliciously. The creature wasn't particularly intelligent in spite of its large, bulbous skull, throbbing with veins. They were bred to be killers through and through, single-minded in their purpose.

Today, he was this one's purpose. Kill or be killed.

With an animal-like growl, the Saibaman rushed Sprou. He blinked and in the next second the creature was right there in front of him, throwing a punch. Sprou barely caught it in time, countering with a punch of his own. The Saibaman took the hit and fell to the side, rolling back up to its feet. Blood trickled down from its mouth, but it didn't take any notice. All its attention was on Sprou and nothing else. Again it charged, this time its head splitting open and firing a stream steaming liquid that Sprou knew was composed of a highly corrosive acid. He quickly leapt into the air and fired a flurry of energy blasts at the Saibaman. The blasts struck their target and exploded, causing it to screech and howl in pain. Not wanting to lose the advantage, Sprou continued to fire, aiming at its knees, forcing it to collapse to the floor.

It then looked up at him and grinned.

_Wha…?_ Sprou thought a split second before one his attacks passed through the Saibaman, exploding harmlessly behind it. _Shit! An after-image! It…_

Green arms and legs wrapped themselves around him from behind and locked themselves together. Sprou cursed himself, his realization having come too late. Light glowed around the creature as it prepared its most powerful technique; a suicide move that turned its own body into a bomb, taking itself and its target down.

_No!_ Adrenaline surging through him, Sprou's muscles swelled, ki surging through him like a storm and he tore himself free, causing Saibaman blood to splash against the wall. Sprou dove forward as the cultivated life form glowed for a brief second before detonating. The force of the blast slammed into Sprou's back, sending him crashing to the ground, the back of his armor and hair afire. He rolled along the ground, quickly extinguishing it. Struggling to his feet—Kami, his muscles burned from that last move!—he looked around, taking in the remains of his opponent, scattered as they were and smoldering. The Saibaman was dead, albeit not by his hand, but in the end he stood.

Did that mean he won?

A voice came over the intercom. It was Sqash.

_"Training session is over, Sprou. Report to the med-bay immediately."_

Holding one arm, Sprou found himself laughing lightly. That was about as close he was going to get to an answer from his superior. Uncoiling his tail and letting it relax, he shuffled his way over to the exit. He wondered if his training sessions would get easier from here on out.

_I sure hope so, _he thought exiting the room.

"And so emerges the triumphant warrior," rumbled Pota's voice upon emerging. Turning, he glowered at the beast of a man. Pota laughed, a low beastial rumble that caused him to seethe all the more. He pulled one hand into a tight fist and his tail rose up aggressively. The taste of battle still ran through his veins, setting his anger afire. Pota saw. What was more, he desired to stoke it.

"Don't look like that. You get to live a little bit longer. At least until Kuriza gets his hands on you. You should be glad. It's not every day that a runt such as yourself gets to bloody his hands." Folding his arms together, he sneered at the youth. "Ah, but you're so weak that you'd probably end up dying from just the landing in an Attack Ball…"

"Enough!" Sqash smashed a fist into the wall, causing a mess of cracks to spread across its surface like a spider web. "Sprou. Med bay." She stabbed a hand in its direction. _"Now."_

Something about Sqash's aura caused Sprou's rising anger to ebb and die quickly. His tail drooping again, he quickly made off, leaving the two behind.

Pota glowered at Sqash. "You know, if you keep babying him like this, he'll never get stronger." He thought back to how she looked when she saw the Saibaman pull its suicide attack on the youngling, how she shook with rage in her attempt to restrain herself from bursting into the training room to save him. "_You're_ the reason why he's stayed so weak for so long. I almost can't believe that you're in our unit. You're not Saiyan enough."

Sqash glared at him for a moment before her face took on a savage, predatory grin. "I think it's time for you to remember which of us is stronger," she said indicating the training room with a nod of her head. "Step inside and I'll show you who's _Saiyan_ _enough…"_

Pota cracked his knuckles. His power level had gone up since they last fought. Oh, he'd still lose, but she'd get a surprise or two out of him. "Don't mind if I do," he smiled.

**###**

A/N: I've never written a Dragon Ball Z fanfic before and in my long years on this site never expected to. But I've had this idea in my head for a while now and since it wouldn't leave me alone I decided to start something and see where it goes. I have no idea whether or how long I'll go with this story, or if any of the main canon characters will make an appearance (due to the timeline that I have, it's unlikely). Due to my inexperience with the franchise, any and all help regarding grammar, style, plot progression, etc…will be much appreciated.

To my followers, I haven't quit 'A Story for Suzie', and to expect an update soon. :P

Until next time.

-Crazyeight

5


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z.

Cold War: SaiyaGene-13

Chapter: 2

Planthorr felt his age creaking in his bones as he calibrated the Medical Machine for his latest patient, Sqash having sent him a message mere minutes ago informing him that Sprou was on his way up. His movements were slow and shaky, but the memory of experience ingrained in him from his long years of service prevented him from making any mistakes. A brown-furred hand appeared by his side, a cup of warm tea being presented to him, which he took gratefully and had a sip from it.

"Thank you, Shinou," he told the dark-furred, red-eyed, humanoid creature, returning the cup to his companion before resuming his work. He heard the door open behind him and he saw the Thirteen-marked youth enter the med bay in the reflection on the pod's glass. He was holding one bloodied arm with care, and his armor was a wreck, but that was the norm for the Thirteens that visited him, just as it was for the Elevens and Twelves that came before.

"Standing this time on your own, I see," he observed before returning to his work. Sprou scowled, but nodded his head.

"Yes, for once. How's the pod coming?"

"Almost ready. Just one more second and…there." Breathing a sigh of relief, he moved back and wiped an arm across his forehead. After pushing a button to open the pod, he gestured to it with one hand. "In you go."

Sprou stripped out of his battle uniform and reluctantly passed them to Shinou before entering the pod. Planthorr attached a breathing apparatus to his mouth and various wires to his head and body before again moving away. At once the pod closed around the Thirteen and began to fill with a bluish-green liquid. Sprou shuddered as relief began to flood his body wherever the liquid touched and began to slip into unconsciousness.

"Hmmm…" Planthorr made his way over to his monitoring station and activated the screen, displaying the readouts being fed to him by the Healing Pod. _No sign of further physical growth since the last time he was in here, but that's hardly surprising. Like their forbears their growth rate is…chaotic. Prince Vegeta still had not reached his adult size by the time he left Frieza's service._ His eyebrows rose a little as the sensors registered a small spike.

"Doctor?" came the voice of his dark-furred assistant, long tail whipping anxiously at his expression.

"Everything is fine my dear," he replied. "It would appear that his power level has risen slightly following the battle. Sprou's Zenkai genes are functioning after all."

_Although it appears they are operating at a much lower capacity than someone like Sqash, Pota or Haran. Or even the average Thirteen. _"I'll have to make a note to send him on a mission to further test his abilities."

_Not out of the woods just yet, youngling, _he mused. _Something will need to be done. Icen desires only the strong in his army. Perhaps it's time for more mental stimulation to awaken his instincts…_

He glanced up at the pod. Sprou was resting peacefully within. Looking back down at his computer monitor, he pressed a button and called up a new screen.

"Activate dream mode," he told the computer AI. "Simulation, Titan."

_That should help give him the motivation he needs…_

From within the pod, Sprou twitched ever so slightly as the machine began to hum.

**###**

Sprou opened his eyes to find himself standing alone in the middle of a grassy field, decked out in full battle armor., sans scouter

_How did I…?_ his mind began, taking a look around him. _Where…?_

The field offered nothing for which he could identify to determine what planet he was on, and could easily have been the long-destroyed Namekian world for all he knew, rebuilt by their supposed magic. The light of the day likewise blocked out any constellations that he might recognize, leaving him with nothing but clear blue sky dominating his field of vision.

The earth shook just then and a shadow fell over the field. Turning warily, he looked up to see a towering, humanoid giant, nude yet displaying no sexual organs. Its eyes were empty, zombie-like, yet aware of him on some instinctual level, and its mouth curved to reveal wide, thick teeth.

Sprou recognized the creature. Their kind was a pestilence in the universe, having first been discovered on a planet of little importance beyond sale-value. Where they came from no one knew, but for the society unprepared for them they were devastating.

His battle-aura flaring around him, Sprou launched himself into the air and immediately began to cut loose with a barrage of ki blasts. They detonated against the giant's skin, blowing holes in its body and knocking it back. The creature was little disturbed though and after righting itself began to lurch in his direction, mouth snapping at him while its injuries began to close and heal.

"So the rumors are true after all," he said, keeping the distance between his adversary. "Your kind _can_ regenerate. Which likely means that your reported weakness," He tapped the back of his neck, "is the same as well."

The giant reached toward him and Sprou rose one arm and took aim, ki gathering at his fingertips.

"Cerri Spear!" he shouted, and with that a pointed blade of energy shot forth from his fingers and stabbed through the giant's hand and through the arm, blowing out the back of the shoulder. The giant didn't make a sound as the limb fell down, hanging loosely by a thread of bone and tendon for the briefest of moments before snapping off, dissolving into dust. Wasting no time, Sprou reignited his aura and flew around his adversary. Lightning laced around one arm as he raced toward the giant's neck and he slashed at its weak point. The giant howled as its body crashed to the ground, breaking down into nothing.

Sprou _harrumphed_ to himself as the smoke cleared. "Well, that was easy…" he began, coming to a landing on the ground.

More shadows fell over him as the ground shook beneath his feet. Sprou looked up to find a dozen more such giants lumbering toward him. The Thirteen's face fell at the sight.

"Crap…"

**###**

The saucer fell burning from the skies, a beam shattering it into thousands of shards of shrapnel. It was quickly followed by dozens more. Kuriza didn't have to move from his spot atop the royal palace. His scouter located the ships and he burned them from the sky, sparing not a single one.

"Wasteful," he commented as he vaporized the last one. "What is Icen doing? Is he _afraid_ to face me all of a sudden? Why does he _insist_ on sending these useless ships and soldiers against me? All he's doing is ensuring their destruction. Does he _want_ to lose?"

He narrowed his eyes as he mulled the thought over. No, it was unlikely that was the case. These ships didn't even represent a fraction of a fraction of the forces he had at his disposal. Kuriza had a mere 39 planets in his kingdom, but his adversary… Hundreds, if not thousands of worlds lay at his disposal, many of them having belonged to previous rulers and his family, Frieza, Cooler and Cold.

As if to give credence to his suspicions, his scouter beeped at an energy signature behind him, just as a voice, deep and amused, spoke.

_"I would have thought that after all this time Lord Kuriza, you would have learned to not overestimate your strength…"_

Spinning, Kuriza leapt away and fired a blast at the source of the voice. His shot passed through a shadow with red eyes and exploded in the depths of the city behind it. His eyes widened with horror, though whether it was at the visage before him or his actions could not be ascertained from a cursory glance. He felt tremors in his body as his heart picked up its pace. Humor danced behind those red eyes as they regarded the young lord.

_"My apologies for startling you,"_ the shadow said, tossing a look over its shoulder, though his tone sounded as though it were anything but. _"I merely wished to have a small chat before we commence with the next stage of our little conflict."_

Kuriza took in the dark figure and took note that it didn't cast a shadow.

"A hologram…" Kuriza cursed, taking hold of himself. Moving through the projection and swatting aside the small orb he found behind it, he quickly took in the damage he did to his city. He gritted his teeth together, seeing a building on the verge of toppling over, being held up by one of his soldiers as civilians began to evacuate. Fury flushed his body and Kuriza charged his battle aura. Leaping off the palace he rushed down to the building and took hold of it with one hand, lifting it up and righting it.

"Evacuate everyone out of here!" he shouted down to the soldier now bereft of the weight. He was a tall humanoid male with dark hair and standard RIT battle-armor—similar to the Saiyans his father hated so much, only the tail was absent. He couldn't remember his name, though he appeared familiar. Nonetheless the soldier obeyed without hesitation and raced inside to do as ordered. Kuriza grinned to himself before returning his attention to the task at hand. Any further similarities to the Saiyan race ended there. Saiyans, he recalled his father telling him when speaking of their genocide, were notoriously unruly and refused to be tamed by their betters.

_"How does it feel knowing that your fear nearly caused the deaths of so many of your subjects?"_

His head snapped up to find the holo-projector hovering above him. Its lens was cracked from when he swatted it aside, ensuring that it could no longer display the image of his adversary, but he could clearly still communicate.

"You _dare_ mock me, Icen?!" he growled, his vision starting to grow red at the orb. "You _doubt_ my courage?"

The orb shook slightly as it broadcast Icen's laughter. _"Doubt it? No. You are still here after all, Kuriza. Your people will not remember you as a coward, but you know fear all the same. I planted that seed in your heart as I took worlds from your family's empire and I branded its mark upon your face when I cast you from the planet you called home for so long. I just simply wanted to talk to you. Talk to you about fear."_

"I will show you fear!" Kuriza spat, but Icen merely laughed again.

_"Words you have said before, and they amounted to nothing in the end. The next attack Kuriza will be that which your father feared. I will imprint that fear upon you as well… Burn it deep into the depths of your soul."_

The orb's lens glinted and blood-red eyes manifested briefly in a shower of holographic light.

_"Beware the golden fire, young lord. For when I am through with you, your capital will burn. Your people will not remember you as a coward. Rest assured of that, for they will not remember you at all._

_ "Just something you might want to consider…should you feel the need to retreat. Good day, Lord Kuriza… Until the next time."_

With that, the holo-orb exploded, showering Kuriza with metal shards that bounced off his ki-protected skin. He narrowed his amber eyes and glared up at the sky.

"Lord Kuriza!" shouted the soldier from earlier. "The building has been evacuated!"

Taking hold of it now with both hands, Kuriza let out a roar of anger. His eyes saw red as he hurled the broken tower into the sky, watching it disappear. He briefly wondered—hoped—that it took out another enemy vessel, though he doubted the possibility. Sighing, he lowered himself to the ground where he was greeted by the cheers of his loyal subjects.

_"Kuriza! Kuriza!"_

He smiled as they shouted his name and he approached the soldier from earlier and held a hand up in silence. The crowd quickly quieted down.

"What I have done," he began, "I could not have done without the assistance of this man before you—a servant of the Frozen Throne." It wasn't true of course, but his people ate up the appearance of humility on his part. More importantly, this bound his soldiers loyalty to him all the more tightly than Frieza ever managed. _He ruled through fear. I rule through respect. _"Shout this man's name to the heavens, so that our enemies may know that they do not wage war against me, but _all_ of us!" He turned to the man. "And what is your name, so that our citizens might know who they celebrate?"

The man's dark eyes locked with Kuriza, and for a moment there was that uncanny resemblance to the Saiyan race again.

"Zorn," the man said simply. Still smiling, Kuriza returned to the crowd.

"Three cheers for _Captain_ Zorn!"

The crowd roared with approval as Zorn's eyes widened slightly.

_"Captain Zorn! Captain Zorn! Captain…!"_

4


End file.
